The Questing Beast
by The Grey Piper
Summary: The Robinsons are visited by someone who appears to be a somewhat confused knight in armor! He tells a tale of a world which has turned its back on some oddly-familiar technology, turned to simpler times, and sent him on a quest to slay a dragon. Young Will believes firmly in Sir Sagramonte, but only Penny discovers the jarring, yet touching, secret of "The Questing Beast."


LOST IN SPACE ADVENTURES

_Foreword_

Lost In Space_, after all these years, remains a remarkably engaging and endearing show. Many of the episodes draw on themes from classical literature and folklore, and many address issues and themes far more sophisticated than it is sometimes given credit for._

_Additionally, _Lost In Space _had a remarkably talented cast of stars, with significant previous fame and stardom under their belts. Guy Williams had achieved fame as Zorro, June Lockhart was already known as the archetypal mother from _Lassie, _Mark Goddard had two successful series in his resume, Angela Cartwright had spent years on _Make Room For Daddy_ with Danny Thomas, Jonathan Harris had been in a number of shows, a character actor doing both drama and comedy – an accomplishment in itself – etc. etc._

_The writers and producers likewise had any number of credits to them, both in television and movies. And Irwin Allen himself was already known as the light behind _Voyage To The Bottom Of The Sea.

_The ingredients were there for a stunning, landmark TV series. That is what _Lost In Space_ became . . . but perhaps not in the way everyone hoped. Some episodes became virtually notorious._

The Questing Beast_ is one of those, let's say, "controversial" episodes, which has many staunch defenders and hardened detractors. Both are justified, to a degree. I happen to be one of those who likes it, but appreciates its shortcomings. You will find this _Lost In Space Adventure _to be my most radical departure yet from the original, and this is deliberate, in large part because I do like the actual episode so much. Among other things, I have made no attempt to recreate what many of us consider the best parts of it, in particular, the very touching scenes between Will and Dr. Smith which give a profound, beating heart to an episode which might be otherwise be swamped in the silliness of a pink-beribboned dragon afraid of mice. Rather, I have taken this in a very different direction, as you will see. Expect little familiar._

The Questing Beast

A Lost In Space Adventure

1.

"More salad?"

An attractive, middle-aged woman offered a large bowl of greens to the group sitting around a lunchtime table. This group included her husband and three children: Professor John Robinson, Judy, Penny, and Will, respectively, along with two other men. These two were, or had once been, officers in the United States Aerospace Corps. The older of these was a colonel and a doctor. The younger was a major and a pilot, specifically, the pilot of the disabled spacecraft which was the backdrop to their outdoor meal. His name was Don West. The doctor, Zachary Smith, responded immediately to the offer made by Maureen Robinson.

"Just a taste more, if you'd be so kind, dear lady!" Taking the salad bowl, he heaped his own plate with a good portion of the remainder, then poured an equally generous amount of dressing on top of it. "Mrs. Robinson, the delights of your table are one of the few things which have made this dreadful ordeal bearable," he stated. He passed the salad bowl to John Robinson, who peered, exasperated, into the near-empty vessel.

The ordeal Smith referred to was simply this, that the whole company of them were stranded on a strange, hostile planet, far from Earth and hopelessly lost in the vastness of deep space, with their spaceship crippled and almost empty of fuel. None of which was the fault of the pilot, Major Don West. Although the others were not to know it – not for certain, anyway – it was Smith himself who had been responsible for the sabotage which had nearly been the doom of them all. He had spent the last year and a half (Earth time) passing himself off as an innocent bystander in a string of unlikely events which had made of him an unwilling passenger aboard their ship, and missed no opportunity to exploit their naïve regrets to his advantage.

John Robinson scraped the remainder of the salad greens onto his plate. Smith snatched up the bottle of salad dressing and smacked it lustily, ejecting a last few blobs.

"Dr. Smith," protested Maureen Robinson, weakly, "That's the last of the real Italian dressing from Earth."

"And delicious it is too, madam!" he responded, inserting a pinky finger into the neck of the bottle, and delicately sucking down what it recovered. "Ah, well, _sic transit gloria mundi. _I think I saw one more bottle of Thousand Island in the pantry. Perhaps that will suffice until we're rescued."

The rest of the crew darted looks at each other. None harbored much hope either of rescue or of Dr. Smith learning how to be a cooperative member of the crew.

Judy Robinson, the elder daughter, stood and began gathering empty, dirty plates. Her brother Will, ten years her junior, jumped up to help.

"Don't let us rush you, Dr. Smith," he said.

The sarcasm was lost on the doctor, who sat reveling in the last few mouthfuls of salad before him.

None of the others would have bothered with such a remark. Only 11 year old Will had a real fondness for Smith, and his jibe sprung from a sincere wish to make of Dr. Smith a more likeable man. Although disposed to many vices, Smith's failings stemmed more from weakness than evil, and in this he was more child than man. Will responded to Smith's childishness in a way that made him feel almost that he was older brother to the doctor, and had on numerous occasions exhibited a love and protectiveness toward the man which were far beyond his years.

Dr. Smith dabbed daintily at his lips with a napkin. He rolled his eyes in sensual delight as he gobbled down the last of his lunch, and screamed. "Aliens!"

The others raced to the scene, and stared off into the direction Smith's hand shakingly pointed. A most astonishing sight stood between two tall rocks. "An alien in battle armor! And carrying a huge ray gun!" he shrieked.

"Shush, Smith!" ordered John Robinson, not taking his unbelieving eyes from the sight. "If that's battle armor, it's about a thousand years out of date," he observed.

"Hello!" called the visitor. "Hello the castle!"

"Castle?" The query passed between the crew with dumfounded looks.

"I beg your leave to approach and throw myself upon your grace and mercy!"

The crew exchanged brief, bewildered glances. The figure's armor, as Robinson noted, appeared to be that of a knight from Earth's medieval Europe.

"Approach!" called John Robinson.

"What is this place? Are you Hospitallers?"

"Are we _what_?"

"Is this an inn of the Knights Hospitaller?"

Another round of bewildered looks passed between the spaceship's crew.

"No," replied John. "Whatever that means," he muttered to the others.

"I thought not. Far too soon. But one never knows."

"I'm sure." John Robinson shook his head again and looked at his crew. "We're not an inn and we're not 'Hospitallers,' but if you're in danger or distress we'll be glad to help you. If we can," he called.

The apparition, wrapped in ill-matched plate armor and chain-mail, approached even closer. "Ah! That is an encouraging portent!" he cried. What Dr. Smith had in a panic mistaken for a ray gun was actually a lance, about twelve feet long. The visitor grasped it in both hands, and with a mighty blow, sunk the handle into the sandy ground so that it stood upright.

Will, who had spent a good part of his life reading of kings and knights and castles and such, peered at the lance curiously. "Isn't that a supposed to be a couched lance?" he called.

"A what?"

"A couched lance. You know. You carry it horseback, kind of under your arm, and charge with it. It's way too big to fight with just carrying it around by yourself."

The figure, who had now approached to a scant ten feet, paused. He shoved the faceplate of his helmet up and stared at the boy, then turned and stared at the lance. "That's the oddest thing, you know? It seems to me I _did_ have a horse at one time . . ."

The Robinsons again looked at each other, baffled.

Major West muttered, "Talk about a boxful of loose screws."

Dr. Smith furrowed his brow reflectively. "If he _is_ a soldier of some kind, he possibly suffers some sort of battle fatigue. I saw a lot of that back in the Equatorial Campaign. Humor him, Professor. He may be ill, and I may be able to help."

West snorted. "You, Smith, help? You couldn't help a – "

"Pipe down, both of you," ordered John Robinson. He turned his attention back to the visitor and framed his next words carefully. "Approach, and you will be welcomed as a guest, and we will help you to the best of our abilities. But lay down your arms and pledge that your hand will not be raised against us in any manner."

"By the eyes of Andromeda, it shall be so!" exclaimed the figure. He unbuckled a sword from his waist and rested it in the sand by his lance, then a mace from his back, and a dagger which seemingly appeared out of nowhere. "By my life, those are all my weapons! May heavens and galaxies strike me dead were I to betray mine gracious host."

He then removed the large, ornate, and plumed helmet which covered his head, and tucked it into the crook of his elbow.

The face revealed was as eccentric as the rest of his appearance. White, bushy eyebrows seemed to draw all attention, while a fringe of unkempt white hair framed his scalp in a thin C-shape. Competing with the eyebrows for attention was a long, drooping mustache, not entirely white, but still shot with a reddish hue. The mustache hung to his jaw at the tips, and in comparison to hair and eyebrows, was neatly maintained. He set the helmet in the sand by his weapons and stepped into the courtyard area where lunch had just been eaten.

He took John Robinson's hand between both of his, and fell to one knee. "But prithee, my lord, what manner of castle is this, that shines like silver in the noonday sun? And how shall I address my gracious lord? 'Your Majesty'? 'Your Highness'?"

John Robinson's cheeks flushed a bit, and around him his family bit their lips to conceal grins at his embarrassment. "Please, stand up. And you can call me Professor Robinson."

"Aha, a scholar! Forgive me not recognizing the look of learning burnt across your brow like the sun itself! Is this then a university or some such place?"

"No, no! It's – well, it's a ship. She sails – through the skies, you might say. Her name is _Jupiter 2._"

"I see. I have heard tales of such things from the olden times, the Dark Times. But I never thought to see such a thing myself."

Robinson paused awkwardly. "If you tell me your name, I'll introduce you to the others."

The man bowed deeply. "Forgive me do, Professor. I'm afraid I don't meet strangers frequently, and my manners may be a bit out of practice."

He popped upright, only to bow again. "I am your humble servant, Sir Sagramonte of Antaeus, my liege lord, and yours to command for as long as I am a guest of your, er, hospitality. There, I think I said that right."

He frowned, pulled a small book from a pouch at his waist, and thumbed through it quickly. "Right enough," he assured John Robinson.

Robinson then introduced him to the rest of his group. Sir Sagramonte fell to one knee for Maureen, addressing her as "My Lady," the daughters, Judy and Penny, he addressed likewise. Will, he called "Young Sir," while "Doctor" and "Major" sufficed for those two; those three received bows.

"And now I crave a boon of you, good Professor. I ask that you bestow upon me a knighthood of whatever order it is within your power so to grant."

Another bewildered look passed among the small group. "I thought you were already a knight, Sir Sagramonte," Robinson stated carefully.

"Oh, indeed, good sir! But it is my habit, wherever I travel, to take whatever local knighthood or honors are available. By this, I increase my own renown among my fellow Quest Knights, who are, I must confess, a rather pompous lot. Now, if you will show me to your chapel, where I may stand watch over my arms for the night, I will immediately commence that sacred task."

Sheepishly, John confessed, "We, uh, don't exactly have a chapel, I'm afraid. The ship is just our house, you might say."

Sir Sagramonte's face fell. "No chapel? Oh, woe is me! For it is only by standing watch in chapel or by some heroic deed that a knighthood may be lawfully bestowed."

Will, who had stood silently but thoughtfully, suddenly spoke. "Sir Sagramonte, you have done a heroic deed. You found us."

"What?"

"Well, sure. We're lost on this planet, far from home, shipwrecked, and you've found us. That seems pretty heroic to me."

"Well, when you put it that way . . . why yes, I suppose it is pretty heroic of me! My lord Professor, bestow upon me a knighthood forthwith!"

John flung an exasperated glance at his son. "I think I'm supposed to have a sword," he protested, weakly.

Sir Sagramonte smiled happily. He turned, ran, and retrieved his own from where he had left it. Returning, he offered it hilt first towards John Robinson. "You are already my liege lord, Professor, and all that is mine is yours. This sword is yours, for you to dub me knight with. Just be sure you give it back to me afterwards."

"I don't really think I'm authorized to bestow – "

The knight fell to both knees and clasped his hands together as if in prayer, head bowed, eyes closed.

John Robinson took another look around at his companions. The three ladies had their hands over their mouths, stifling giggles. Major West's mouth hung open, incredulous. Smith scowled, and gestured impatiently that Robinson should get on with it. Only Will gazed on with an attitude of reverence and watched his father expectantly. John thought quickly, put some phrases together, and tapped the kneeling Sir Sagramonte on his shoulders with the sword-tip.

"By the Sword of Orion, the Bow of Sagittarius, and . . . and the Belt of Van Allen, I make you Intendant of Jupiter, Grand Warden of the Pleiades, and Knight of the Southern Cross." John glanced about him as a tense silence hung in the air. "Amen. Arise, Sir Sagramonte of Antaeus."

Sir Sagramonte grasped Robinson's sword hand, kissed it effusively, and only then stood. "My liege!" he exclaimed. "My heart, my blood, and my sword are yours!"

John looked away, flustered again. "Well, unless you know something about refining deutronium or cold-welding titanium alloys, I don't really think –"

"Ah, you are a sorcerer too, I perceive! Forgive me, liege, I know nothing of such arcane wisdom."

"Well, I kind of guessed that," John replied. He coughed. "So, I suppose we could find you a bite to eat if you're hungry, but apart from that, I'm glad to tell you that you don't have to worry about us and can be on your way."

"Oh, a bit of dinner would be most welcome, I confess. Can't remember the last proper meal I had. You know, as a knight, I'm more skilled in slaying giants and dragons and such. Not so much rabbits and deer and things you can actually eat. Usually stuck eating green leafy things and fruits and the like. Once got terribly ill from these delightful-looking red berries . . ."

Maureen grasped Sir Sagramonte by the arm and sat him at the table. "You just sit and relax, now. We'll get you a proper meal, and you go ahead and take off the rest of that armor if you like. You're safe here with us, you know." She frowned. "You _do_ have some decent clothes to wear, don't you? I didn't mean you should sit there in your underw– "

"No, no, My Lady. I take the Helm of Strength off as necessary, but I am pledged never to shed my armor until I have fulfilled The Quest."

"The – ?"

"The Quest. My sacred mission and duty. A quest. _The_ Quest. But I will speak of that another time, when my repast is done, lest I dishonor your hospitality."

Maureen shook her head and smiled slightly to herself, then stepped inside the ship to prepare a bit of synthetic meat and potatoes. He seems so thin, she thought. More than thin. _Gaunt_, she decided.

Sir Sagramonte thoroughly honored Maureen's dinner, and even mopped up a bit from the plate with his finger when he thought she wasn't looking. "May I get you some more?" she asked.

"Perish the thought! That would suggest you were an inadequate hostess who failed to offer enough the first . . . time . . . although I suppose if you already had something more prepared for me, I would be honor-bound to accept . . ."

Maureen smiled broadly and snatched up his plate. Returning to the galley, she confided to Judy, "I think he and Dr. Smith should have some kind of eating contest." The two giggled together as Judy pressed the buttons which popped out another plate.

John and Maureen stood patiently nearby as Sagramonte dined. "Consider us your honor guard, good Sir Knight," said John, succumbing to the spirit of the occasion.

Finished, finally, with his meal, Sir Sagramonte stood and effusively thanked the two. "My greatest thanks to you, My Lord, My Lady! And now, I must retire to my camp, there to meditate and pray and concentrate my whole being upon The Quest."

"Your camp?" asked John. "I was afraid – I mean, I thought you might want to stay here with us."

"My Lord, I am honored to remain under your gracious protection, but I have pitched my own encampment not a stone's throw from your own, and there shall I retire, for the nonce. I fear I have troubled you enough this day, and there is yet the evening's meal too, isn't there?"

"Well, ye-"

"Then I bid you a fare-thee-well, and will see you again presently. Send Young Sir Will to herald the next table, so I do not delay you unnecessarily." Clumsily, Sir Sagramonte gathered up his sword, lance, and other possessions, and stumbled off the way he had arrived.

John and Maureen Robinson looked at each other and shook their heads resignedly. "I suppose he's harmless," sighed John. "That's more than can be said about _some_ of the visitors we've had here."

"I have to admit that I was looking forward to hearing about that Quest of his," murmured Maureen.

"Me too," said Don, wandering over. "I think I could do with a chuckle."

"Will!" called his mother. "We'll be having dinner in about half an hour, so go find our friend and tell him he can head on over."

"OK, Mom."

The boy followed the tracks left in the sand by the knight, and found Sir Sagramonte's camp not ten minutes' walk distant. It was a small tent, rather brightly colored, and made Will think of a circus.

"Sir Sagramonte?" He poked his head inside, but the tent was empty. He walked a bit further, following the footprints. Will passed beyond a large rock, and saw the armored figure kneeling in the sand. He approached curiously. "Sir Sag– "

The knight's sword was planted, blade first, into the sand, his hands resting in a formal pose on the hilt. He was very still, and deep breathing was audible.

"Sir – " The deep breathing took on the sound of a gentle snore.

Will coughed loudly. "Sir Sagramonte!" he called.

The figure twitched, the knight's head turned to and fro, and ice-blue eyes regarded the boy from behind the visor of the helmet. "Oh my, Young Sir Will! Is it dinner already? I was just, er, meditating here for a few moments, part of my daily devotions, you understand."

"I understand, sir."

"Here, do give me a hand, if you'd be so good. These old joints get terribly stiff and creaky sometimes. Of the armor, I mean, of the armor."

Will helped Sir Sagramonte to his feet. He didn't hear the joints of the armor squeak or otherwise complain one bit.

"Ah, well done, lad, well done. I say, a good knight needs a squire. Perhaps you would like to accompany me when I leave this place, serve me on my Quest, and someday achieve knighthood yourself?"

Will's eyes widened, slightly skeptically. "You _are_ a real knight, aren't you?"

"Why, of course, Young Sir Will! You saw your own father dub me as such, as have many before, over many years, all the way back to when I first started out on the Quest."

"Well, yeah, but – "

"You don't doubt your own father, do you? You'll never be a proper Quest Knight with a disrespectful attitude like that!"

"Well, no, but – "

"There you are then, my lad. Remember, a knight's very soul embodies all the virtues: honor and respect, devotion and piety, perseverance and courage, love and truth. And that all begins at home, minding your mum and dad."

"I do, well, most of the time, anyway, just a couple times when Dr. Smith was getting into trouble and I had to go help him and I didn't have time to – "

"Sounds splendid! Going to the aid of a friend in need. You know what they say, 'A friend in need is a friend, er . . . in need.' You have the makings of a fine Quest Knight! We'll have a marvelous time out there, knight and squire, together."

"Well, to be honest – "

"Precisely! You're near a knight already!"

"No, no, I meant I don't think I can just run off to be your squire. I mean, it sounds great and all, but I don't think my parents would let me. Not until I'm older anyway. At least thirteen, I think."

"Ah. Pity. Well, maybe I'll have a word with your father and see if we can work something out. If he thinks you're too young to be a squire, maybe he'll apprentice you to me as an armorer or blacksmith or some such. And then – "

"I mean I don't think he'd let me go at all," Will explained hurriedly. Wishing to change the subject, he said, "Come on, let's head back to the ship for dinner. That's enough of a quest for right now."

Sir Sagramonte laughed heartily at Will's quip. "Well said, lad! I tell you now, for as long as I am on this world, you shall be my squire."

"Thank you. I'll do my best." Will thought for a moment. "So what is this quest of yours you keep talking about? Are you looking for the Holy Grail or something like King Arthur?"

"The what and who?"

"Oh, I guess not. That's an old story about knights back on Earth, where I'm from. Most people don't even think it's for real."

"Ah. What a shame. No, no, I'm real enough, and so is my quest. My quest is to seek, and find, and slay . . . The Beast!"

"What beast is that?"

"Why, The Beast, boy, aren't you listening? The Beast! The Beast, The Questing Beast, of course!"

"But, what _is_ it?"

"Why, why it's a . . . a huge . . . a fearsome . . . a mighty . . ." Sir Sagramonte paused, and coughed. "It's difficult to describe, you see, boy, because I . . . I know _of_ it, of course. I've chased it for uncountable years across uncountable worlds! But I've never . . . never _quite _. . . actually . . . _seen_ . . ."

"You've never really seen it?" Will asked incredulously.

"Well, no, not as such, but mind you, I've followed its tracks, tracked its spoor, across dozens, across hundreds – Oh, it's real enough, I know that! I've battled its minions and left their bones to bleach on _scores_ of – I don't need to _see_ it to know it's out there."

The pair approached the ship. "Umm, Sir Sagramonte, let's not talk about this anymore, at least during dinner. I mean, I'm sure you could tell us some great stories, but I don't think the women will want to hear about minions and bleached bones while they're eating."

"Ah, quite right, Young Squire Will! Gentle conversation for gentle company, you mean."

"Yeah, that's the idea. No monsters or minions or bones. OK?"

"Not a whisper, Young Squire Will."

"I think our cooking agrees with you, Sir Sagramonte," remarked Maureen. The knight, as it transpired, hardly spoke at all as he ate, except to exclaim how delicious something was, how he had never tasted anything like one thing before, or how another was exactly as he remembered his mother's cooking to be. "You certainly seem to have a bit more color in your cheeks this evening. You were dreadfully pale earlier."

"Ah well, as I told My Lady before, I rarely have the chance to dine so well, and were it not for the risk of offending your hospitality, I would hardly dare comport myself so, lest I be taken for one of those uncouth Knights of the Knife and Fork, as we call them, who exploit their station only to indulge their bellies. A good and true knight must always be eager to cast himself forth to the vagaries of Chance. I can hardly recall the last day I have, begging My Lady's pardon, stuffed myself like this. Only the care of the Hospitallers comes close."

"You mentioned them before," interjected John. "You thought we might be them. Who are they?"

Will coughed meaningfully. He didn't want his new friend to say anything which might sound too odd or embarrassing. Sir Sagramonte eyed the boy; he was sure he had nothing to say about the Hospitallers which would offend even the gentlest sensibilities, but he would deal with the subject quickly and delicately.

"The Hospitallers are an order of knights, ancient beyond all recollection, who are famed throughout the galaxy for their, err, hospitality. Any traveler, knight or rogue, king or commoner, who appeals at one of their inns is granted refuge for the night and a meal at their table. Of course, they are one of those very rare orders of knighthood who are also professed as monastics, so their tables are oft-times rather bland. Nothing like what My Lady here has done!"

Will let out a quiet sigh of relief. What the knight related was odd, but not – weird.

"And now," announced Sir Sagramonte, "it is incumbent upon me to repay your excellent hospitality in the only way I can. "T'would be better if there were a bit of music to accompany, but – "

He cleared his throat, opened his mouth to sing. A few apprehensive looks darted among the Robinson party.

"Wait a minute!" cried Will, and darted into the ship. He returned quickly carrying a much-scuffed guitar. "I can give you a little accompaniment. Hang on – " He quickly checked the tuning, strummed a couple of chords. "Go ahead and start singing, and I'll be able to follow along OK."

Sir Sagramonte began a ballad, and Will quickly found some bittersweet notes to complement it. All were rather startled to hear that Sir Sagramonte's singing voice was quite beautiful.

The ballad told the story of a man who had fallen in love, but terribly, his love was only a dream. He spent years pining away for this dream, then one miraculous day he found the girl, herself pining away by the banks of a river for him. Alas, it was too late, his love had called her into being, but her brief, magical life was already spent, and she lay her head back on a patch of purple flowers and died. The dreaming lover suffered an even more woeful fate, he lived.

Will's last chord faded away. Judy dabbed at her eyes. An awkward hush was broken as she said, "That was perfectly wonderful, Sir Sagramonte. If that was meant as payment, well, we owe you another week of dinner. At least!"

"That's a true story, you know," responded the knight, matter-of-factly. The awkward hush returned.

Don West raised an eyebrow as a half-grin lifted a corner of his mouth. "Speaking of stories, Your Knightship," he began. "I'd like to hear the story of this quest of yours."

"Oh, indeed, The Quest! Young Squire Will thought it might be a bit improper for dinner table conversation, what with the ladies and all, but now that we're finished I suppose . . ."

Oh no, thought Will. That's the look Don gets when he's trying to trip up Dr. Smith in one of _his_ stories. He thought furiously for a moment. "Yes please, tell us some more, Sir Sagramonte!" The boy turned to Don. "He's like an old-time big-game hunter, tracking some giant creature all across the galaxy, following its tracks and stuff! Isn't that right?"

"Well, in a manner of speaking, I suppose," allowed the knight. "Oh, not just tracks though. All sorts of signs!"

"Signs?" asked Don.

"Signs! Omens! Wonders! Portents! This is no ordinary creature I seek, but The Questing Beast itself!"

Oh no, thought Will. Now he's sounding . . . weird.

Don concealed an amused smirk behind his hand. "Well, I'm, uh, I'm sure it's a beast of a beast. Good luck, I guess. Will, you gonna escort your friend back home? Make sure he doesn't get lost chasing a portent or something?"

Will bit his lip. "Come on, Sir Sagramonte. It is getting kind of late, and I guess you'll

want to do some more meditating or praying or something before going to bed."

"Remarkable! You do know the ways of a Quest Knight, don't you?"

The two walked off; Don stood for a moment watching them, shaking his head. "Battle fatigue!" Don chortled. "Battle fatigue, my Aunt Maud!"

As they walked, one of many questions popped to the front of Will's mind. "Why did you think we were – what did you call them? Hospital Knights?"

"Hospitallers, Young Squire Will, Knights Hospitaller. One of the surest and most reliable wonders of all. After a few weeks or a month on a world, and I've tracked the Beast, perhaps slain a minion or two, I will find an Inn of the Hospitallers. A knight there will bid me enter, prepare a meal for me, bind my wounds and heal me if I am injured, and offer a bed for the night. I sleep, and when I awaken – I am on a different world, to which the Beast has fled."

"Uh-huh," responded Will, after a moment.

"But as I had only just arrived this morn and seen nary a trace of the Beast, I thought it unlikely. And they are never as many as you, but it seemed best to be sure."

"But _why_, Sir Sagramonte? I mean, why this Quest stuff?"

"Well, a knight isn't a knight without a Quest, and without knighthood and Quest, what is there to live for?" Sagramonte paused thoughtfully. "Certainly nothing from the Dark Times, I'll tell you that, boy."

"What do you mean?"

"Ah, I saw that craft of yours, and I saw some of the wizardry within. I pray your land never falls to the darkness as did ours." Reaching the camp, squire and knight sat on adjacent rocks. Sagramonte continued his tale.

"The wizardry of wire and steel, of voices and pictures flying unseen and unheard through the air, like unto any ghost or unclean spirit! We had servants such as yours, even, crafted of wheels and crystal, which did our every bidding!"

"I don't think there's any robot in the universe quite like our Robot," grinned Will.

"Sooth, so did all think, I'm sure. And he is a great help to you, sharing your burdens and easing your labor, both of the hand and of the head?"

Will frowned for a moment as he deciphered Sir Sagramonte's question. "He helps us with all kinds of work, whether it's heavy work or calculations and observations and stuff like that. Yes."

"Aha. And how would it be if there were not just him, but scores of such servants to wait upon your every need?"

Will grinned again. "Sounds pretty neat!"

Sir Sagramonte scowled, and his bushy eyebrows looked like a cat's ruff standing in alarm. "One might so think at first. Now think that all those are charged not only with serving your every whim, but of protecting you from all hazard of life and limb. Think, lad! Try to climb a tree or swim in a brook, and there is your retinue to pull you down or fish you out, lest you scrape a finger or catch a chill. Nay, they would stop you before you even set a hand to a branch or wetted a toe."

Now the boy frowned more thoughtfully. "I guess that could get kind of dull."

"Dull indeed, lad! Generations of my world were born, grown old, and passed on without ever being more than infants, under such terrible kindness. And that was not even the worst!"

Will was now listening attentively. "What was worse than that?"

"You have about you some charm, some amulet, by which you may speak to your father or the others at some distance, sending your words across the sky?"

Will's hand went to his belt, where his walkie-talkie hung. "This right here."

"And also a useful implement, when you want it. Now imagine, that it sits not on your waist, but right inside your ear! You speak with whomever you wish instantly, and any may so speak to you! And ne'er a way to silence the thing. And not just your kin and your friends – anyone! And when I say anyone, I mean too those mechanical nursemaids. I spoke before that they would stop your hand before you even reached for a tree to a climb, but truly, it was worse even than that. They would hear your very idea, and be there to halt you almost before the thought was formed! It was as though the entire world had taken residence inside your head, and left you no room for your own self. And I ask you, what is it if a man gains the whole world and loses himself?"

Will gazed thoughtfully at the ground and said nothing.

"Well, I tell you, Young Squire Will, one day, many years ago, we all stood up, almost as a man, and cried to the heavens, wondering what sin we had committed to allow such punishment fall upon us, but even as we cried out, we knew that it was only what we had done to ourselves, and our fathers' fathers before us.

"All in a night, we arose and overthrew the tyranny which held us, destroying as many of the mechanical servants as we could, and calling upon the chirurgeons to rip from our heads the amulets which held us ensorceled.

"There were a handful who protested, and some would have had those put immediately to the sword, but cooler heads prevailed, and they were instead exiled to a far continent, along with a few of their accursed machines, and it was given to them strictly in charge that they never leave their land, nor oppress honest men and women again with their devices.

"As for the rest of us – many returned to good, honest labor, tilling the land and making the simple tools which would be our helps and never our masters. Others became traders, crossing the Great Lands with wagons and beasts of burden, so that all the lands should benefit and thrive in mutual strength.

"But some – some thought of loftier things. There should be, the Grand Council said, men to go forth and seek out the danger and the toil which had been deprived us so long, as exemplars of the greatest and noblest that men could be. In the model of our remotest forebears, we set forth, honor-bound, to achieve a certain Quest, with nothing but might of arms and faith in the Truth of what we did to sustain us. We drew lots, and it was mine to slay a terrible Beast. And . . ."

Here the knight choked up a bit. "I fear that I shall fail! After all this time, I am sure that all the Quest Knights but me have returned to glory and honor, and spend their days telling tales of great works and heroic deeds, eating and drinking well as their just reward, and here am I, poor old Sir Sagramonte, a – a failure!"

The old knight hung his head, and Will regarded him solemnly. "Sir Sagramonte, back on the world I came from, we had stories about knights and quests and things too, even if they were all so long ago nobody knows if they were even for real. But something I remember, I think it's what you might call the moral of the story, is that it wasn't _finishing_ the quest that mattered at all. It was being _on_ the quest that counted."

Sir Sagramonte sat up and brightened noticeably at this. "I say. You have something there, Young Squire Will, I mean you have something that cuts right to the heart of the matter! Seems I recall hearing words to that effect myself. Why, when you put it like that, it's those knights who've finished their Quests and gone home who are the failures, not I! Indeed!" he cried out, rising to his feet, "On the morrow, I shall surely continue the pursuit of the Questing Beast, and Heaven grant I may pursue the dreadful thing until I no longer have breath to draw!" He roared the last few words, shaking his sword in the air, as if giving fair warning to his quarry.

"Well, good night, Sir Sagramonte. I'd better get back to our ship. I'll see you tomorrow."

"You shall indeed! Ha!" Sagramonte lunged with his sword and swung it madly in the air a couple of times before settling down to his rest.

As Will approached the _Jupiter 2_, the Robot met him at the hatchway. "Good evening, Will Robinson. You'd best get to bed, it's late."

Will stared at the Robot, and shouted, "Stand aside! I have no need for such a mechanical nanny as you!"

Obediently, the Robot rolled aside, but watched the boy curiously as he first stepped to the elevator, "Hmph!"'d indignantly, then turned and descended the ladder to his cabin.

"What have I done now?" wondered the Robot aloud.

2.

Sunrise found Maureen Robinson in the spaceship's galley, pressing the buttons which instructed the food synthesizer to pop out a family-sized batch of ham and eggs – or at least a reasonable substitute for them.

The rest of the crew were gathering at the table outside as she brought them up. Will sat in his customary place, arms folded. He glowered at the plate set before him. "Synthetic again?" he demanded.

His mother looked at him, slightly amused. "Yes, and unless you've seen some pigs and chickens running around, it's the closest we're going to have for a long while."

Will "Hmph!"'d as he had the night before at the elevator. "Perhaps that is a worthy quest for me. I shall go forth, and not return until I have found us some real ham and eggs!"

"What'll you eat in the meantime?" teased Penny, his sister.

Will's face reddened.

"Son," said John Robinson sternly, "That's no way to speak to your mother. And the Robot said you were rather rude to _him_ last night. If this attitude of yours has anything to do with knights and quests and such, I think you'd better remember that part of being a knight involves chivalry and manners, and you'd better act that part a little better, before you find yourself imprisoned in the dungeon for the morning."

Will hung his head. "Sorry, Mom. Delicious breakfast. Thank you." He looked about him at his family and friends. "But Sir Sagramonte is right! If we let machines run our lives, we're no better than machines ourselves, we're even less!"

John smiled. "I think we're a long way from that, son. Is that the story he told you last night?"

Will briefly rehearsed the knight's tale. John repeated, "We're a long way from that. So let's enjoy what our machines can do for us and not get too upset, or we all might end up, er . . ."

"End up what, Dad? Crazy, like Sir Sagramonte? Is that what you were about to say? Well, he isn't. He isn't!" Will jumped to his feet.

"If you're finished with breakfast," said his mother, "take your plate down to the galley and wash it. If you like, you can take _all_ ours down to wash, if you'd rather a machine didn't fiddle with them."

"You just don't understand!" protested the boy, but took his own dish on down as instructed.

John and Maureen looked at each other. "I think we're in for a long week or two," sighed Maureen.

"Let's hope it's that quick," concurred John.

"When did 'machine' become a bad word, is what I want to know," groused the Robot.

Several minutes later, Will re-appeared. "I'm – " he started to announce. Then, turning to his father and bowing slightly, "With your permission, Father, I shall hie me hence to Sir Sagramonte's encampment, there to attend upon him as his squire."

Stifling a grin, John replied, "With my blessing, son. Try not to be gone too long."

As the boy trotted away, Maureen asked, "Do you think that's wise? He does have chores around here, you know."

"I know. I think it'll be best if he gets all this out of his system as quickly as possible." He chuckled. "I suspect he'll have his fill of Sir Sagramonte as soon as he's hungry for lunch."

Maureen sighed. "Maybe. But don't forget, we'll most likely have _him_ as our lunch guest too!"

"_He_ didn't seem to mind synthetic food much, did he?"

"I'd better get our machines busy, hmm?" responded Maureen. "And our handmaidens, too. Penny!" she called. Her daughter popped out of the ship. "Do me a favor, please. Take a basket down to the oasis by Green Rock Canyon and see if those berries we've been watching are ripe yet. If you can get enough, I'll bake a pie for dinner."

"Yes, Mother," Penny replied.

"And some of those wild greens, too. They stretch the salads quite a bit."

Penny smiled, took a basket, and headed out.

The planet where the Robinson party was stranded was a desert world, but like most deserts, it had its share of running water and oases. Green Rock Canyon was the name they had given to a nearby feature where an underground spring once burbled as a small river; the

now-dry riverbed was a convenient path, and there was enough moisture in the ground that thin moss crept up the rocky canyon walls, suggesting the name the Robinsons had assigned it. At the further end, water finally resurfaced and formed an oasis about one hundred feet across where native vegetation grew thickly. Here could be found the berries Maureen had mentioned, as well as the plump, leafy greens which supplemented their synthetic and hydroponic food.

There were few hazards on this world, apart from the brutal climate, and Penny was well accustomed to making foraging expeditions here all by herself with no fear. Perhaps that is why she could barely stifle a scream when she saw an unexpected figure moving in the underbrush not twenty feet distant.

"Hello? Hello?" she called. "Can you understand me? My name is Penny Robinson and I'm just picking some berries and things. I'm unarmed and I won't hurt you." She thought quickly. "But my friends are nearby and they are, so it wouldn't be a good idea for you to . . .

try . . ." Her voice trailed off as a face appeared much closer than she expected. "Oh. Hello," she said, much relieved.

"Hello there. Penny, you said? My name is Gundemar. How do you do?" A perfectly human-looking woman stuck out a hand, which Penny took in her own.

The woman was stout, slightly shorter than Penny, rather older. Older than Mother, even, Penny thought. Mostly-grey curls adorned her head, and her tanned face was weathered with wrinkles.

"Pleased to meet you," said Penny. "Sorry if I sounded a little unfriendly. We don't have many visitors, and some that we _have_ had haven't been terribly nice."

The woman smiled warmly. "I don't meet a lot of new people either."

There was a moment's hesitant silence.

"Are you from Earth?" asked Penny. "You look as if you could be."

Gundemar frowned. "Earth? Sounds vaguely familiar. I may have been there once, but no, I'm not from there."

After another brief silence, she asked, "I don't suppose you've seen any interesting characters around here lately?"

"Do you mean Sir Sagramonte?"

Gundemar sighed and nodded. "That'll be him. Is he all right?"

"Well . . . yes, I suppose. Aside from running around in armor a few centuries old, I mean."

"Good." She shook her head. "Sorry, I managed to lose track of him almost as soon as we got here. I'll keep an eye on him for a few days and try to keep him away from you and your family, and then get him out of here."

"Oh," said Penny, knowingly. "You're sort of responsible for him?"

"Don't you know it, honey," Gundemar sighed. "Come on over to my – sorry, I'm not sure of the right word in your language. It's a sort of ship, but not exactly."

Penny trailed the lady for a short distance to a small metal building that looked nothing like a ship. A few wooden frames were erected in front of it, and tough fabric sheets hung on them.

"It's like a ship," explained Gundemar, "but it doesn't fly through space. It travels directly from one planet to another through – " Here she hesitated again, and gestured vaguely in the air with her fingers. "Through different space than this. Through a higher space."

"Like, through different dimensions and hyperspace?"

Gundemar frowned, then nodded. "That's right. I'm not sure those are the exact words, but close enough, I think."

"I don't think my language has a word for something that travels like that. So – are you and Sir Sagramonte from the same planet?"

Gundemar nodded. "My orders from the Grand Council are to keep tabs on him, make sure he doesn't hurt himself or anyone else, and to bring him back whenever I can and whenever I think is appropriate."

"You're – sort of his nurse, then."

"You could say that." Gundemar smiled bitterly.

Penny's mouth hung open in astonishment. "But I thought – the way I heard it was that he was one of a whole mighty legion of Quest Knights, off to set a glorious example for everyone."

"Oh, that's how it started, all right. There were a hundred of them or more. After a few years running around the planet, most of them came back to the city, and started telling each other the grandest lies you've ever heard. They all knew it, too. And that's how it's been for the last fifty years. They all get together in the taverns every eight-day, see who can tell the biggest new whopper, and who can drink the most. All but – " Gundemar jerked her thumb vaguely in the direction of Sir Sagramonte's encampment. "Jumped the planet on a trader's ship. Took me three years just to catch up with him."

"But why don't you – just tell him the truth or something?"

"What? That the Quest Knights are bunch of drunken buffoons? That he's spent these years being almost as big a fool himself?" Gundemar looked Penny in the eyes. "If you've spent five minutes with him, you know that would kill him."

Penny looked at the ground. "But how does he – ?"

Gundemar pulled the sheets across the front of her conveyance. They were painted to look like a stone building, and would have made an adequate stage backdrop for a small community theatre's production of _Macbeth._ She smiled wryly and bowed to Penny. "Welcome to the Inn of the Knights Hospitaller, M'lady."

Penny's mouth again dropped open. "You're the one who – "

"More times than I can count. More different worlds, sometimes even different eras. Every so often I hit a tesseract and get displaced a few hundred years. Takes me a couple jumps to get back when we belong. One time we wound up on this planet, thickly inhabited and pre-industrial, right up his alley. Even found himself a horse, of all things. Old fool went charging at a windmill, thought it was a giant. Took _weeks_ patching him up after _that_."

Penny looked curiously at Gundemar. "That story sounds familiar. I think maybe you did make it to my Earth once, but in a very long time ago year."

"Want to see the terrible creatures he's cut down?"

Penny nodded apprehensively.

Gundemar opened a large trunk. Inside were a handful of cheap costumes, some covered in fur, some in scales, some arrayed with arms and legs like a spider. Penny put a hand to her mouth to stifle a giggle.

"Yep," Gundemar nodded. "All me. I'll get dressed up, let him chase me for an eight-day or so, then let him get close enough to swing at me. I drop down dead instantly, of course." She sighed, and now the trace of a tear appeared in one corner of her eye.

"I can't keep doing this. I'm getting too old for this nonsense, and so is he. A few more planets maybe, and I'll have the big costume ready, a real Beast for him to fight and slay. Here, let me show you." Gundemar opened a different trunk. Inside was a single item, a huge, scaly headpiece.

Penny wanted to giggle again, but bit her lip. "Of course. A dragon. How else would a knight complete a quest?" Suddenly, she looked at her still-empty basket. "Oh dear, I really have to go. I should have been back a long time ago, and I haven't even picked one berry yet! Well, it's been very . . . interesting talking to you, Gundemar. I hope everything works out."

As she turned to go, Gundemar caught Penny by the elbow. "Penny, please. Don't say a word to the others, alright? For his sake?" Her eyes were imploring.

"Oh, no. No, of course not. But any of us would be glad to help you and do what we could for you both."

Gundemar shook her head. "I rarely tell anyone as much as I've told you. How old are you, Penny?"

"Fifteen."

"Someday, when you're older, you'll understand. You'll understand that no matter how big a fool he may be, no woman wants to see her husband made a fool of in front of strangers."

"Your – ?"

Gundemar nodded ruefully, and Penny noticed for the first time the simple gold ring she wore on her left hand.

"My husband." A vagrant tear finally trickled down from Gundemar's eye. "Married seventy years, and forty of them like this."

"I promise." Penny trotted off, and hastily filled the basket with greens before returning to the ship.

Sir Sagramonte and Will both arrived for lunch, which was served just slightly late. Penny apologized for her lateness, but offered no explanation other than her own distraction looking at flowers.

As they ate, Don prodded Sir Sagramonte to tell some more of his remarkable tales. The knight obliged, each story more extravagant than the last, and Don could barely contain his mirth. John, Maureen, and Judy eyed the Major with some displeasure – Sir Sagramonte was a guest, after all. Penny was growing increasingly furious and frustrated at West's teasing, and Will grew indignant as his hero was so belittled.

Finally, Will faced the Major boldly. "Major West, be warned! If you do not cease your ill-mannered jibes, Sir Sagramonte will have no choice but to challenge you to defend yourself at arms! And everyone knows that the hand of a true knight must triumph in combat over one who accuses falsely!" Turning, he asked, "Isn't that right, Sir Sagramonte?"

"I – I – I – well – yes, that is true of course. But I, er, I could, er, never raise my hand against one at whose table I have been a guest! Yes, that's it! Always remember, Young Squire Will, that the rules of hospitality must always overrule even the honor of knighthood! So I shall accept these slurs with grace and forgive this . . . _varlet!_"

"Really, Major," muttered Dr. Smith. "Hold your tongue. This is beneath even you. To torment a poor soul already tormented by . . ." Smith surreptitiously tapped at his forehead.

"He's not – !" Will and Penny both began the same exclamation, but Penny quickly bit her tongue and stared at her plate. An idea began forming in her mind.

Will jumped up. "Come on, Sir Sagramonte. You were going to show me how to parry and counter with the two-handed broadsword." The two strode away, Will casting an indignant look behind him. "Let us not stay here to be insulted by these commoners!"

John and Maureen gave each other pained looks. "He'll grow out of this very soon," they repeated to each other.

Penny stood. "I think it's very brave and noble of him to defend his friend like that," she stated. "And I think we should all be a bit more understanding towards both of them."

"Maybe Will is setting a good example after all," said Maureen. "That's very generous and grown-up of you to be sticking up for your brother like that."

Penny tilted her head up and smiled. She was shaking a bit, inwardly. I wonder, she thought, if this is a little bit how Gundemar feels sometimes. The idea which had started stirring finally took form, and after cleaning up from lunch, she secretly slipped away back through Green Rock Canyon.

"Mother," called Penny. "I'm so sorry I didn't get enough berries and greens earlier. I'll go back and get some more."

"Thank you, dear. Don't be late coming back, please."

Penny grabbed two baskets from the galley stores. She found Dr. Smith outside, carefully avoiding work, and grabbed him by the elbow. She shoved a basket in his hand. "Come with me and help, Dr. Smith, please? All this talk of beasts and minions and things has me terrified to be out by myself! And I know how brave and strong you _really _are. I'll feel safe with you." Penny gazed up at the doctor with wide, puppyish eyes. Just to be sure, she batted her eyelashes twice.

"I am glad to know that _someone _around here appreciates me," he murmured, throwing his head back. "Come along then, dear child. None shall harm you while I am about." He took a moment to reassure himself on this point, and strutted confidently down Green Rock Canyon.

Soon, Penny was happily gathering greens and berries.

Smith stood alertly, popping an infrequent berry into his basket. "I mustn't become too distracted and forget my duty as sentry, Penny dear!" he excused himself.

Penny's basket was about half-full when she noticed a suspicious movement out of the corner of her eye. A faint, faint sound, like someone coughing discreetly for attention, touched her ears. Very slowly and deliberately, she nodded twice up-and-down.

A terrible, bestial roar interrupted the pastoral scene, and a short, stout figure covered in thick brown fur stumbled through the undergrowth, arms stretched ape-like over its head, wickedly-scythed nails protruding from the fingertips. Penny cut loose with a blood-curdling scream which had Dr. Smith joining in even before he knew why.

The girl ran –not too quickly– toward the canyon path. "Help, please, Dr. Smith! Save me! Save me!" she squealed, brushing past him. The apelike creature, loping after Penny, turned aside at the sight of Smith and stalked him menacingly.

"No! Go away! Go away! I'm not the knight you're looking for! I can go about my – "

"YEARRGHHHH!" howled the creature, and its claws whistled through the air a bare inch from Smith's throat.

Smith shrieked in panic and raced up the canyon. "Run, Penelope!" he cried at the girl, who stood waiting for his arrival. "Come along, you foolish child, or it shall devour you!" warned Smith as he flew past her without slowing.

Penny waited just long enough to see the creature follow up the canyon path. As it spotted Penny, it paused a moment to wave its arms menacingly and growl – somewhat half-heartedly, it seemed.

Gleefully, Penny curled forefinger and thumb into an "OK" gesture, and waggled it at the creature. The creature, in turn, pointed what was conceivably a thumb in the air and returned the girl's salute.

Laughing with delight, Penny now fled up the path toward the ship, only rearranging her face back to sheer terror before making the last turn into the _Jupiter 2_'s perimeter. She had run quickly enough to nearly catch up with Smith; he now collapsed in a chair at the dinner table and was keening like a frightened dog.

"Help! Help!" he cried "Monsters! Minions! Beasts! Get lasers! Get force-fields! _Get Sir Sagramonte!"_

The rest of the group raced to the scene. "It's all true!" Smith gasped. "A binion of the Meast – I mean a minion of the Beast! At the oasis! It chased Penny and attacked me! Oh my! Claws like . . . like razorblades and teeth like railway spikes!"

Instinctively, the rest of the company turned to Penny for confirmation. Smith was well-known to exaggerate the slightest threat or danger, and his description of the creature he could have as readily applied to an annoyed squirrel.

Penny stood leaning with one hand on the table, the other resting dramatically on her temple. Much to the surprise of the others, she nodded vehemently. "It's just as he says! There we were picking berries when this horrible creature started chasing me! It was – how big Dr. Smith? Six feet tall?"

"Yes, six at least, dear child, possibly seven!"

"And it roared like a lion and chased me, and Dr. Smith jumped in front of it and saved me! And I ran . . . and I ran . . . and – oh Daddy, I was so scared!" A tremulous sob escaped her lips. Fortunately, no one had been there to notice that it was Smith who had preceded Penny back to the ship.

"Come on, Don," ordered John Robinson. The two men automatically slapped their hips to feel the laser weapons strapped there, and trotted together down the canyon path.

Penny pursed her lips, only slightly worried. She had cautioned Gundemar this would probably happen, and to be safely out of her monster costume and hidden as quickly as possible after their performance for Smith.

A time later, the two returned and reassured the company that all was quiet, no strange creatures found, and that they could relax.

"But let's set the force-field," John ordered. "Maximum strength, narrow radius, I want Green Rock Canyon to think it's been filled with cement."

Maureen stepped over to Don and her husband. "And I think the second order of business will be for you two to apologize to Sir Sagramonte. He'll be here soon for dinner, you know. You hear me, Major West?"

Don gritted his teeth and rolled his head. "I'd rather do Indoctrination at Space Academy again," he grimaced.

When knight and squire arrived for dinner, Don took it upon himself to both apologize for any disbelief of his tales, and to brief them on the incident at the oasis.

Sir Sagramonte drew himself up straight, while Will gazed on in open-mouthed admiration.

"Maybe this is why you were brought here, Sir Sagramonte!" enthused Will. "To save my family!"

"Mayhap you are right, good squire," responded the knight. "I have often thought it more than mere chance which has guided my steps these many years."

More than you'll ever know, thought Penny to herself. She gazed at the knight, and felt something of the admiration Will had for the man. He really is a noble soul, she thought then. Penny looked into his ice-blue eyes, and saw nothing of foolishness, madness, or confusion – only courage, honor, determination. Oh, Gundemar, she thought. I think I understand. I think I understand why you love him so.

"When will you slay the monster, Sir Sagramonte? Tonight?" pleaded Penny.

Now, slight apprehension crossed the knight's brow. "Tonight? Tonight? Well, there's dinner first, I suppose, and it gets dark rather quickly in the evenings, doesn't it? Tomorrow, then! First thing in the morning. First thing after breakfast."

At breakfast, Penny fretted somewhat, concerned that one of the others might get too close to Gundemar and spot the deception. She's been doing this for a while, Penny assured herself. I'm sure she knows how to stay clear of prying eyes.

Sir Sagramonte himself might have provided the solution, as he suggested that only he and his squire approach the field of combat. Maureen objected, noting that the squire was also her son, and rather a young one at that, and wanted to be sure he was safely away from any swordplay. Will rolled his eyes at this and would have protested, but the knight gently reminded him that even a squire to a Quest Knight must mind his mother, and Maureen was permitted.

Penny took that opportunity to volunteer to carry the first aid kit and be handy with bandages in case anyone got hurt. At that, Dr. Smith insisted on being present as well. Penny _was_ worried about Gundemar, and knew that no matter how clumsy or skilled Sagramonte might be, a sword or lance could inflict some nasty damage with little effort. She reminded herself again that Gundemar knew how to handle herself.

John and Don excused themselves from the proceedings as they had remote equipment to repair, and Judy elected to stay at the ship with the Robot and look after routine business.

As the little group wound their way through Green Rock Canyon, Sir Sagramonte told more stories of his adventures, and each one made Penny's heart ache. "Sir Sagramonte," she said, "I know you're the Quest Knight and all, but I thought knights should be more modest about what they've done."

"Ah, quite so, quite so. I'll say no more." To Will, he murmured an aside. "Wasn't thinking a girl wouldn't have the stomach for some of that. Rather gruesome, what?"

Maureen eyed her daughter thoughtfully and whispered, "Are you sure you and Dr. Smith saw a – whatever it was you think you saw?"

Penny caught her breath. "I know exactly what I saw, Mother," she replied, entirely truthfully.

Maureen cast a questioning glance at her daughter, and decided to let it pass – whatever it might be.

"Careful, good sir," said Dr. Smith. "That creature might be anywhere about, ready to spring at us from undergrowth or the water or anywhere. In fact, it was right about there," pointing, "that I first saw it chasing poor dear Penny."

"Dr. Smith may have a point," suggested Maureen. "I think we should all stay inside the canyon walls and let Sir Sagramonte go by himself out into the open. Yes, Will, you too. Stay here with me."

"Yes, Young Squire Will. Hand me my sword – nay, my lance, the short one – and stay here. But be ready to run my sword out to me if I need it."

"Yes, Sir Sagramonte," replied the boy.

With a ferocious growl, the creature shambled out from a shallow cave in the hillside, waved its arms at the knight, and feinted at him.

"Foul beast!" he cried. "Prepare to breathe your last!" He strode almost casually towards the creature, lance held carefully aloft.

The creature inched back, further and further, drawing the knight away from his friends and their sharper eyesight. Hairy arms lashed out, and the lance stabbed at the monster's broad chest. Knight and beast circled warily, testing the other's ability. The lance struck out, and seemingly caught the creature in the arm. The creature screamed shrilly, and began a hasty, backward-stepping retreat. Sir Sagramonte cried aloud.

"Ha! Meet your end, foul creature!" He took a few running steps at the thing, and thrust his lance. So mighty was his blow, and so futile the monster's defense, that it seemed the creature pulled the lance right from the knight's hands and stabbed it into its own side.

Penny covered her face with both hands and cried "Oh!" Beside her, Will jumped in the air and cried "Yeah!" Maureen winced as the creature took a few final staggering steps, and collapsed to the ground.

Sir Sagramonte approached the carcass hesitantly, prodded it cautiously with his toe, then quickly leaned down and pulled the lance out. Only then did he turn, face his audience, and bow deeply to them, one knee to the ground.

"Yes, yes, you see! That's how it's done!" he announced, rather proudly. "Take charge of the situation, let the enemy know who's in control, and strike like a serpent!"

"That was terrific!" effused Will, looking at his knight with shining eyes.

"Yes," concurred Penny, having regained a somber demeanor. "That was the most heroic thing I've ever seen! I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. I can hardly believe my own brother is your squire, Sir Sagramonte!"

"We're certainly in your debt, Sir Sagramonte, and many thanks to you," agreed Maureen. Especially for not letting Will down, she thought, he would have been crushed if he couldn't believe in heroes. She let another curious glance fall on her daughter. I still think there's more here than meets the eye, Maureen told herself.

The little group returned to the ship, all eager to tell the others of Sir Sagramonte's heroics.

"But I," said the knight, "It is my custom at such times to retire to solitude for a short while, there to meditate and pray and reflect. Young Squire Will, help me bring my gear back to my camp, but then you shall leave me and return here." He once again dropped to a knee and took Maureen's hand. "Fear not, M'lady, I have not forgotten my obligations as your guest, and will assuredly return in time for lunch.

"Squire! My armor is starting to act up again. Here, help me to my feet." Will helped the old man up, and the two went off.

After a short time, Maureen called to Penny. "Penny! I'm still hoping to get enough berries for a pie. Would you mind going back down there to get more?"

"Of course, Mother! I mean, of course I don't mind."

"At least you won't run into any monsters this time. Will you?" Maureen asked with a chuckle.

"Don't be silly," Penny giggled in return. "Oh! I mean, I'm sure Sir Sagramonte would have taken care of any others if there were," she amended, hastily.

I hope you'll tell me the story someday, whatever it is, Maureen thought. "Just be careful, darling," she finished.

"Yes, Mother."

"And do try to bring back enough berries."

"Yes, Mother," Penny repeated, and headed back down to the oasis.

Penny found Gundemar sitting in a rough leather chair outside of her not-a-ship. "Hi! Are you OK?"

"Just fine," Gundemar replied with a smile. "Ugh. Fine as I can be, anyway. Like I told you, I'm getting awfully old for this. And I need to get some fresh padding in that costume before I use it again. I swear, I felt every rock on the ground where I dropped. And when I rolled, the shaft of that lance of his hurt almost as much as if he'd really jabbed me with it."

She took a long pull from a hot, steaming mug beside her, and adjusted her blouse. "When all this is done and we're back home together, he's going to wonder why I have all these big purple bruises all over my boobs," Gundemar grinned.

Penny giggled and reddened.

"Well, maybe tomorrow you can point him down this way again, and I'll have the Inn set up to get him out of your hair and into someone else's. Here, you didn't see this before." Gundemar pulled what looked like an ordinary tin mop bucket over her head, with three narrow slits cut for eyes and mouth. It was painted white and adorned with a few red crosses. _"I am the Knight of the Inn, Sir Sagramonte,"_ she growled in a husky voice.

Again, Penny giggled, but quickly put a hand to her mouth. "Sorry," she apologized.

Gundemar shook her head. "It's OK. I do have to laugh about it all once in a while. There's an old saying on my world, 'If you didn't laugh, you'd cry.'"

"We have the same saying, Gundemar. Our people are really a lot alike, aren't they?"

"Most people are, honey. Oh. Here you go. Gotcha a head start on your berry-picking." Gundemar carefully poured a sackful of berries into Penny's basket. "Now. I really need to go lie down and take something for the aches."

Penny grinned once more. "Sir Sagramonte is feeling about the same, I think." She looked at Gundemar curiously. "You must really love him. I mean, really _really_ love him. I never . . . I never thought that loving someone could be so difficult."

Gundemar smiled wanly. "It wasn't much easier before all this started. Just different."

Penny coughed a little half-laugh. "Now I'm not sure I understand at all. But if I ever get married, I hope – well, I won't say I hope he'll be just like Sir Sagramonte, but I do hope we'll love each other the way you love him."

"Just don't go in thinking it's going to be easy. Because it isn't. Now I've really got to – oh, hey. Nearly forgot. If those berries are going to go into a pie, he'll like it best with some whipped cream on top. Get along now. And if I don't see you again here . . . all best wishes to you."

"Same to you, Gundemar. Thank you."

Some time later, Penny's basket was finally full of berries, but she walked slowly, slowly and thoughtfully, back up Green Rock Canyon, back to her home, her family, her future.


End file.
